


Picking Up the Pieces

by within_a_dream



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: Charlie has a bad night. Dr. Blake helps pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Lucien Blake & Charlie Davis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Picking Up the Pieces

Charlie leans against the wall, biting his lip to hold back tears. He regrets it when that draws more blood from where it's split down the middle. He'd been a bloody idiot, to think he could do this without consequences.

He'd tidied himself up as best he could, but he knew he looked a mess. Thank God it was dark, and late enough that no one was on the street. No one except Charlie, limping towards where he'd locked up his bicycle and trying to forget what had just happened.

Charlie knew where men with certain proclivities went to look for likeminded company in Ballarat. It was impossible not to know when you worked long enough as a copper. But he also knew which streets the department turned a blind eye towards, and although he hadn't known exactly how the liaisons that occurred there felt, he'd wanted desperately to find out.

The man who met Charlie's eyes that night had seemed kind, at first. Until he'd gotten Charlie alone in the bushes, and grabbed his arm a little too tightly.

"Careful there!" Charlie had laughed, then, still expecting the man to stop when asked.

The man hadn't stopped. He had instead tightened his grip and kissed Charlie roughly. His mouth tasted of garlic. It was an absurd detail to remember, but Charlie could still taste it in his mouth. Then another set of hands had grabbed his arse from behind, and he had begun to struggle in earnest.

When the man in front had tried to kiss him again, Charlie bit him. It had earned him a blow to the nose (maybe broken, by the sound it had made under the man's fist) but Charlie couldn't say he regretted it. It was only the first of the beatings, and the blood trickling into his mouth reminded him that he hadn't bloody wanted what they did to him, not like this.

The man and his friend had half-stripped Charlie, and then done things to him he'd dreamed about under different circumstances. He deserved this, really. Hadn't he spent night after night dreaming about a prick in his mouth, or in his arse? Hadn't he come out tonight begging for exactly this? Maybe he deserved being pulled to his hands and knees behind a bush, twigs and stones digging into his skin. Maybe he deserved a cock shoved down his throat so far he had to fight for air, and another forced dry into his arse. Maybe he deserved to be left with one man's emissions plastered across his face and the other's dripping out of him along with what he suspected was blood.

After they'd left him, Charlie had pulled his trousers up, wincing at the pain. He'd found his jacket thrown over a bush and used the lining to wipe his face, the thought flitting through his head that he'd have to have it cleaned after this. After he'd made sure his face was clean and his belt was buckled, Charlie had set off towards his bike. And now here he was, steeling himself for the ride home.

Sitting down on the bicycle was the worst pain he'd ever felt, and Charlie was no stranger to pain. He felt as if someone was running him through with an iron rod, driving it into him with every bump in the road. He cursed the distance to Dr. Blake's house with every pedal.

He'd thought he could sneak into the house and up to bed without anyone noticing. Beg off sick, skip breakfast and work, clean up when he had the house to himself. He hadn't counted on Lucien still being up, although in retrospect he should have known.

"Out late, Charlie?" Dr. Blake looked up from his papers and sucked in a breath. "My God, what happened?"

"Took a tumble," Charlie said through clenched teeth. "I'm off to bed, if you don't mind."

"I can't persuade you to let me have a look at that nose?" Dr. Blake stood up and walked towards him. "Here, you've got a stick in your hair."

He reached up to brush it out, and froze. "A tumble, you said?"

Charlie traced a hand up to meet Dr. Blake's, and found a dried splash of come clinging to his hair. His stomach sank.

"Please, you can't tell anyone, I didn't-"

Dr. Blake looked at Charlie with an expression he couldn't quite read. "Off to the park, were you? Or has the location moved since I was young?"

It took Charlie a moment to fully understand just what Dr. Blake had told him. "It hasn't changed, no."

Dr. Blake ran a thumb across the bruise swelling up under Charlie's eye. "Forgive the assumption, but I don't believe you set out to be a punching bag. Did someone catch you out?"

Charlie shook his head, struggling to hold back his tears. "He seemed nice at first, this fellow. But he got me out alone, and then called in his friend, and I tried to leave but he wouldn't stop and I didn't want it, not like that…"

Charlie had been on the other side of this so many times, asking questions of people who didn’t want to answer. He’d always had to choke down his pity for the people who broke down, pity and contempt. And now here he was, doing the same damned thing. It was a miracle Dr. Blake could even understand what he was getting at.

But he did seem to understand, because he opened his arms slightly, subtly enough that Charlie could ignore it if he chose. Instead, Charlie fell into him, pressing his face to his chest and beginning to sob.

When he pulled back, the doctor's shirt was smudged with tears and blood. "Oh, I've ruined your clothes!"

Dr. Blake smiled. "Hazards of the profession. Would you let me clean you up?" His tone had a brittle lightness to it that he’d probably hoped Charlie wouldn’t notice. But Charlie didn’t say anything, just dutifully followed him to his office.

Dr. Blake peered at his nose. "That looks broken."

"I figured as much." Charlie gingerly touched it, feeling where it bent to the side.

"May I set it?"

"Yeah, of course."

Dr. Blake warned Charlie before he touched him, and again before he forced his nose back into joint. _Stop treating me like I'm going to shatter,_ Charlie wanted to shout, although he knew he should be grateful for the consideration. He managed to keep from screaming through sheer force of will, imagining how much worse this night would get if he woke up Mattie or Mrs. Beazley.

Dr. Blake ran his fingers over the rest of Charlie’s bruises, or at least the ones visible while he was dressed. "Nothing serious there, although you’ll be very colorful in the morning. Now, I’m afraid I have to ask you to undress."

Charlie stripped his clothes off as directed, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He didn’t have the money to replace them, but at this point he never wanted to wear them again. Dr. Blake clicked his tongue when he saw the trails of blood down Charlie's legs.

" Did you ride your bicycle back like this?"

" I couldn't very well call you for a ride!"

"No, I suppose not." Dr. Blake continued his examination with only his eyes, and this time Charlie _was_ grateful for the lack of physical contact. "I think a bath might be best, if you feel up to it."

Charlie nodded. "Will you, ah, fend off the others for me if necessary?"

"If anyone asks, you came down with a fever and took quite the fall down the stairs. I’m insisting you stay in bed until you recover fully."

"Thanks, Doc."

Charlie managed the bath by himself, although Dr. Blake made sure he knew that he was waiting just outside the bathroom if Charlie needed anything. He ran the water nearly hot enough to burn and scrubbed himself clean, barely feeling the pain from his bruises and scrapes over the relief of washing away that night’s events. Then he dried himself off, put on the clean pyjamas that Dr. Blake had left outside of the bathroom, and fell into bed, too tired for anything to keep him up.

He woke up the next morning to sun streaming in through his window and a knock at his bedroom door.

"Just me, Charlie. May I come in?"

Charlie mumbled his assent, and Dr. Blake entered, carrying a tray of food.

"I thought you might appreciate breakfast in bed."

Charlie scrambled to sit up, wincing as the motion reminded him of every bruise on his body. "You didn’t need to."

"Of course not, but I wanted to. You’re my friend, and you’re recovering, and I’m certain you don’t want to face the others."

He most certainly did not. Charlie took the tray, picking through the plate of bacon for the crispest pieces. "I know it's your job, but I brought this on myself."

He knew Dr. Blake wouldn't like that, and sure enough, he hissed a bit and asked, "Is that what you think?"

"It's easy enough for you to take pity. You're...like me." Charlie focused on the food in front of him; if he looked at Dr. Blake he knew he'd lose his nerve and shut up. "But how do you think the others at the precinct would see it? What do you think Lawson would say, if he'd been the one to come across me last night?"

Dr. Blake sat down with a sigh. "I've known Matthew Lawson far longer than you have, and I can tell you that he would feel just like I do. And so would anyone who matters."

"How hard would it have been to just keep it to myself? No, I had to go and think I could meet someone and take him home like a normal man." Charlie hated himself for crying, and for spilling this all out. He couldn't look up, terrified to see the pity in Dr. Blake's eyes.

"Imagine you were in the interview room, and Charlie Davis walked in to report a crime." Dr. Blake held his hands up when Charlie began to protest. "Hear me out. If he told you everything that happened to him last night, would you tell him what you just told me?"

Charlie grudgingly shook his head. "That's not going to stop the thoughts, though."

"But it might quiet them a bit, hmm?" Dr. Blake patted him on the shoulder. "Stay in here as long as you need, but know that when you're ready to come out, we'll all be happy to see you."


End file.
